Another Life
by IolantaStar1
Summary: When Ianto Jones died, the last thing he expected was to find himself living another life.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimers: This work is a crossover between Torchwood and the Velgarth books by Mercedes Lackey. I decided to publish it as a Torchwood fanfic because it makes more sense to approach it from the Torchwood angle. You don't need to be familiar with Mercedes Lackey's works in order to understand what's going on (although I do recommend reading them just because they are so entertaining), but you do have to know and love Ianto. Neither the Torchwood nor the Velgarth characters belong to me. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 1**

There was nothing. Literally, nothing. Ianto was not prepared for this. Sure, both Suzie and Owen had warned them about afterlife promising neither heaven nor hell, but Suzie was evil and might have been lying, while Owen had only been dead briefly the first time around and could have been mistaken. Yet, here he was surrounded by absolute blackness. Even under his feet, Ianto sensed the absence of anything substantial to hold him up, and that was assuming that he still had feet, which was questionable at best. Do dead souls get to keep some semblance of bodies?

Ianto closed his eyes and felt a second of relief. His neurons, if he still had those, produced sparks of light behind the eyelids, and even that was better than the utter emptiness around him. He was not certain how long he has been there. There was no way to tell time. There was nothing to do. How is it possible to stay in a place this empty and remain sane? Maybe that's what happened to Suzie… But no, she had planned her return in advance, so she must have been crazy before her first death. Could Jack find another Glove to bring him back to life? After all the misery the resurrection brought Owen, would Jack even want to?

There was no use in wondering. It would just drive him insane faster. Ianto opened his eyes, and the darkness was still there, or rather not there. He could not tell which pressed on him more – the primordial, instinctual fear of the dark or the knowledge that even the dark was insubstantial; there was nothing there, only emptiness. Ianto opened his mouth to scream, wondering briefly if the ever-present voices that Suzie described haunting her in the night were really just screams of fellow souls trapped in this hellhole, but no sound came out. The emptiness did not contain even air, and without air, the sound waves could not propagate. He tried to scream again and again until his throat was sore, but still the deadly silence remained unbroken. Somehow, that made it worse, like he was stripped of all of his senses. At least, eyesight remained, although apparently he could use it only for things conjured by his own imagination. Ianto honestly would have preferred the haunting voices.

What other senses were there, anyway? Sight, hearing, olfaction, taste, touch… There was nothing in the empty darkness to taste, and the absence of smell seemed as pervasive as the absence of light and sound. Ianto had no idea that smell had played such an important part in his life until it was so suddenly gone. That left only touch. He curled his fingers and dug his fingernails into the palms of both hands, taking a moment to revel in the feeling of pain and the accompanying rush of endorphins. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nevertheless. At least one thing remained of his old life. That was a weird turn of phrase in itself. "Old life" implied that there was a new life that had taken the place of the previous one.

Eventually, both the pain and the endorphins wore off. Ianto would have sighed if he did not know how futile such a gesture would be without the air to breathe in. His eyes were closed against the surrounding darkness. He had wished for death so many times in those months right after Lisa's death and before rediscovering himself with Jack, but this was definitely not what he had imagined. Ianto did think that there would be nothing, but he had not expected the consciousness to remain and to continually perceive that nothingness. He had not expected the feeling of being torn away not only from his life and all the people in it, but also from himself. Ianto would have screamed again if it had not been such a terrifying experience the first time around – like a nightmare where a single shout would summon aid against some invisible monster, but your throat refuses to produce a sound or emits just a hoarse little whisper.

Keeping his eyes closed, Ianto willed himself to fall asleep, seeking at least some form of escape, but either he was too wound up or the dead were "asleep" to begin with and could not fall into that state any deeper. Instead, with every passing minute, he felt himself sinking further into despair. Enduring this for eternity would be excruciating, but he deserved nothing else, not after keeping Lisa alive in her own peculiar sort of limbo despite the pain it had cost her, and not after having the deaths of two innocent people lie squarely on his conscience as a result. In some ways, Ianto was as much a murderer as Suzie, although none of it had been premeditated or intentional. Still, he could not imagine a more cruel punishment than the slow, deliberate descent into insanity that this place promised. Ianto would have cried, if he were not so terrified that tears are also reserved exclusively for the living. Had Jack felt the same thing in the intervals between deaths buried in the ground beneath the future city of Cardiff?

Minutes or hours later—he honestly was not sure—Ianto opened his eyes again, just because it was something to do, a way to occupy himself with something other than dark thoughts at least for a moment. And in the very corner of his peripheral vision he noticed… light.

It was only a tiny spark, but the surrounding darkness was so complete that it stood out against the background brighter than a full moon against the sky on a clear night. Ianto willed himself towards it with all the power left in his soul or body, and the spark grew larger. He could not tell if he was the one moving towards it or if it was approaching him—and if he was the one moving without anything for his feet to push against, it would certainly violate Newton's Third Law—but it did inexorably appear closer and closer with each passing moment until it halted right in front of him, a brilliant whiteness in the midst of the absolute dark.

Ianto also paused briefly, but anything was better than the place he was currently in, so he steadied himself and pushed forward into the light.

For a moment, he felt completely blinded and almost panicked, thinking that this was all just a ploy to strip him of the last of his senses. But then his eyes adjusted, and he found himself in an entirely different place. He was surrounded on all sides by grayish, opalescent mist that seemed to glow with unearthly light. Glancing behind, Ianto saw no sign of the dark "light" he had half-expected to remain at the spot where he had just entered this new place. There was still nothing solid below his feet, but the mist reassured him: if it could hang in space without dissipating, there must have been air and gravity keeping it there.

"Hello! Anyone here?" Ianto cried out experimentally and was so elated to hear the sound of his own voice that he almost forgot the question itself until a reverberating voice behind him replied, "Yes, child of Earth, here am _I_."

Ianto spun around and nearly chocked as he saw two human-shaped forms standing before him. One was male with shoulder-length dark blond hair and a stern face, while the other one was female with shorter hair and with skin the color of dark chocolate. Both wore white togas and had something light around their heads, while behind their backs, he could just make out the silhouettes of enormous white wings barely visible in the mist. _Well, can't say I expected this, _he thought, trying to recover from a sort of stupor. Ianto had been religious once, as a kid, but what belief had not dissipated in the face of hard scientific facts and the inherent impossibility of proof while he was still growing up was surely extinguished later. Torchwood did that to people. Ianto did not consider himself an atheist really; he was actually more of an agnostic, allowing some room for a possibility that something greater existed out there, although certainly not in the simplistic form most religions seemed to attribute It. Therefore, being confronted by angels was a disappointment in a way; he was not prepared for this level of banality out of the afterlife.

"It matters not in what guise I appear. This form is but one of many. Such is your people's belief, and therefore, such is the way that I show myself to _you_," the voice emanated from both angels at once, and both moved their lips in perfect synchrony with each other, so Ianto sensed that the apparent unity of their speech merely echoed a deeper unity. They were not really "they" so much as a single entity that, for whatever reason, had chosen to appear before him in two bodies. It was very unnerving, not in the least bit because it made it impossible to look both of them in the eyes while they were speaking, as the rules of politeness would dictate, and Ianto found himself constantly shifting his gaze between the two.

"So… what now? Are you going to judge me?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. It was probably useless—Ianto was reasonably certain that the angels could read his mind—but it did help him to feel in control of himself.

"No," the angels shook their heads, their faces about as impassive as Ianto had tried to make his own. "The right to Judge belongs to a greater Power. I am merely a servant. Moreover, the Judgment has already been passed, and now it is up to you to choose your fate."

Ianto opened his mouth, but then closed it again, unsure what to say in response to such a strange statement. If the choice were between Heaven and Hell, he sincerely doubted that any sane person (soul?) would choose the latter. So why leave such a decision to the highly subjective judgment of someone whose life should, by all rights, be judged by an objective, omniscient Being? On the other hand, perhaps, this was a test. Hadn't he just thought about deserving any punishment he might receive as a penance for what had happened to and because of Lisa? Maybe that was the point – a punishment one made up for oneself would likely to be worse than anything anyone else could come up with.

However, as Ianto grew more confused, the angels' faces seemed to soften in perfect synchrony. "Ianto Jones," they intoned finally, "the choice before you is not that between Heaven and Hell. It is between life and… me."

At that moment, Ianto realized just whom he was facing. And they were right, their visible form was nothing but a guise. After all, what physical shape could possibly belong to Death?

"If you decide to embrace me," the "angels" continued, their faces now practically beaming with satisfaction, "you will enter a place of Light. Guilt, doubt, and self-hatred will no longer touch you. You will be content and happy, at peace with who you are and sharing the company of those who have met me before you."

It sounded so perfect. "I don't deserve it," Ianto choked, knowing in his heart the truth of this statement.

"But you do," the angels shook their heads, gazing at him compassionately. "Your sins—if ever they could be called such, for they were not committed with ill intent—have already been paid for in full. I will gladly embrace you and ease your pain."

"And my other choice…?" Ianto asked automatically, scarcely knowing what to think anymore. He had wanted Death so much in the past.

"Life is… life. Guilt, doubt, self-hatred, and pain are a constant for living humans. And if you choose life, you will find yourself on a different world devoid of familiar people and things, even more alien than you had been feeling before. Finally, there are conditions that you must fulfill in exchange for choosing that option."

"Conditions?" Ianto frowned. "What kind of conditions?"

"There is a purpose to your second life. You must swear an oath to do no willful evil and to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You must give your soul to a Power greater than a mere mortal can ever perceive and do its bidding for the sake of the many people who should not meet my embrace prematurely. Are you capable of bearing such duty?"

"I don't know," Ianto answered truthfully, uncertain if anyone was capable of really bearing it. After all, did not Jack try to protect the people of the entire Earth when he sacrificed those children to the 456? Did that count as "protecting those who cannot protect themselves" or was that precisely the "willful evil" that he must foreswear? This was all too abstract, too black-and-white, while real people tended to operate more in the shades of gray.

"You will be human, and you will make mistakes. It would be foolish to expect anything else," the "angels" assured him. "However, you will have an obligation to always help irrespective of the harm it might cause you, and you will have the duty to obey the wishes of the Higher Power when presented to you by an indisputable messenger."

All of this sounded very complicated and purposefully vague. Ianto would have felt highly suspicious if this proposal had not come from the mouth (or mouths) of someone who could not and would not lie. Still, omissions were hardly lies, and there had to be something that the "angels" omitted, because when presented in such a way, the choice seemed painfully clear: die and exist in a continuously happy state or live and experience all the misery associated with life further complicated by obscure duties he did not fully understand.

The "angels" lowered their collective gaze, and Ianto sensed hesitation in them, as if they were uncertain if they should upset the balance of choices set before him. However, a moment later they raised their eyes once again and said, "You should know that if you choose not to embrace me, you will be able to see him again."

Ianto did not have to ask whom they meant. He glanced away, but there was nothing to see except for the mist. Ianto swallowed a lump in his throat and whispered, "He doesn't love me," making it sound much too much like a question than he would have liked.

"Is that truly relevant?" the "angels" replied, once again looking at him with compassion.

It was not. Ianto knew the answer as soon as they asked the question. The decision was clear. He had already chosen to live for Jack once without knowing if the other man would ever love him, and it only made sense to do so again.

Ianto looked into the eyes of one "angel" and then the other. "I choose life," he said and was immediately enveloped in bright white light, his mind only briefly registering a sorrowful smile on Death's faces.


	2. Chapter 2

Once again, neither the Torchwood nor the Velgarth characters belong to me. I just borrowed them for the purpose of entertaining myself and, hopefully, a few readers. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 2**

Ianto found himself lying on his back with his eyes tightly closed against the light that accompanied his teleportation. The surface beneath him was hard, and a slight movement of a hand told him that he was on the grass-covered ground. Opening his eyes, he glimpsed patches of blue sky through an impossibly thick canopy of verdant growth. Ianto sat up and absently rubbed at his stinging cheek. "Of course," he muttered. "I should have known. Death is easily curable, but a scrape—now that will take a while to heal."

Looking around, Ianto noticed only tall grass, thick shrubs, and enormous trunks of trees the likes of which he had never seen before. It was not that they could not have existed on Earth. There was nothing biologically impossible about them, and they could have very well evolved on his native planet. It was just that they had not. Everything, from the shape of the leaves to the shade of the bark, was only a tiny bit different, confirming for him that he indeed ended up on a different world.

That being said, this different world did not seem like a particularly bad place to be. The sun was high above the horizon, and only a few more hours would tell if it intended to move in the westward or eastward direction. Some birds, apparently undisturbed by whatever power had teleported Ianto into the midst of their forest home, chattered merrily somewhere high in the canopy. A gentle breeze softly rustled the leaves. The weather was warm, but not oppressively so. In short, this place would have been pretty darn wonderful, if Ianto had any clue where he was and what he ought to be doing there.

"Good luck trying to help the helpless and right all wrongs when there don't seem to be any bloody people around," he said aloud just to hear the sound of his voice. "Right then. Can't sit here all day."

Ianto got up, brushing some dirt off his trousers, and made his way to one of the trees. The leaves turned out to be vaguely oak-like in shape, but the reddish veins all ran parallel to the main axis of the leaf like in a monocotyledon. He stepped on an acorn and stopped for a second to marvel at its weird shaggy cap before turning his attention back to the parental tree. Upon closer examination, Ianto noticed the slight yellowish hue to some of the leaves. Since most of the vegetation around him was brilliant green, he doubted that yellow was a natural, healthy color and wondered if perhaps this was the first sign of the upcoming autumn. The flora was certainly more consistent with a temperate climate that saw regular changes of seasons. Just as well—Ianto did not fancy trying to beat his way through a tropical jungle. The shaded side of the tree trunk was covered in bluish green lichen, so that must have been the side facing north. Ianto rounded the tree and set off in the opposite direction. He did not actually think that he could out-walk winter, but if it really was going to get cold soon, heading south just felt right.

Navigating through all the tall grasses and the thick bushes was not at all trivial. Somewhere along the way, Ianto picked up a stick large and smooth enough to use as a cane. It saved him from having to stumble through random burrows insidiously hidden beneath the grass ostensibly for the sole purpose of tripping unsuspecting hikers and from having to use his bare hands to climb through thorny shrubs, which seemed to block his path in practically all directions. Ianto had never thought that he would be grateful to his father for anything in his life, but now he found himself distinctly happy for that wilderness survival course his tad had signed him up for as a child. It was an attempt to toughen up the boy his father saw as too sensitive and too bookish. Ianto understood that fact clearly even at the age of nine and resented the whole exercise as a result. This did not mean, however, that he was not good at it. In general, he was good at almost everything he tried, and wilderness training was no exception. Ianto might have hated it with pure hatred, but he consistently brought home good marks, which seemed to please his father well enough. After all, he had never earned perfect grades at school either. The first few times he had scored highly on the tests were enough to show him that such efforts were not appreciated either by his classmates or his family, all of whom considered his success to be a sign of arrogance. It was easier to purposefully answer a few questions wrong and stay quietly in the shadow, shrouded in the comforting cocoon of his obscurity.

Ianto snorted softly, wondering what Jack had thought when, after reading about his prospective employee's "average, but not exceptional" abilities, he had found himself hiring someone who could keep a cybernetic body alive for months, understand Toshiko's programs with minimal explanation on her part, effectively hack into and search through practically any database, and put the total chaos that was the Torchwood archives at the time of his arrival into a state of perfect order. Frankly, Jack must have figured out that the original profile was wrong and might even have dug deep enough to know that it did reflect Ianto's actual grades, though obviously not his abilities. Even so, it was not in Jack's nature to broach such a potentially sensitive subject without dire need. He was thinking to hire someone who had basic knowledge of alien tech and was resourceful enough to bribe a pteranodon with chocolate, and if that person could also help in a myriad of other tiny ways around the Hub and was not averse to letting Jack screw him into the mattress—well, that was just an added bonus.

This line of thought was inevitably depressing, but a few hours into the hike, Ianto needed something to keep his mind occupied and distract himself from his growing hunger. If there was anything that the wilderness course had taught him, it was that eating unknown plants could be very dangerous. Granted, so could dying from hunger… Back to Jack, though. That was a different kind of hunger, but a hunger nonetheless. What Ianto told the "angels" was true—it really did not matter if Jack loved him; Ianto would have wanted to be with him regardless. It certainly would have felt better, though, if he did. Ianto knew that it was ridiculous to expect anything out of Jack, the man who had not told him "I love you" even when he was dying in his arms, but there were times when Jack looked at him with such caring and gentleness, when in his own usual roundabout way, he almost seemed to bring himself to confess some deeper emotion... Those times were what kept Ianto from extinguishing his hopes completely, so really it was his own fault for falling into the trap of false expectations. After all, Jack had never actually promised him anything.

Ianto was so lost in his thoughts that it took him several seconds to register the sound he heard as a human voice, but when his brain suddenly made the connection, it promptly jolted him out of his dark musings.

The original phrase was repeated in a commanding tone brooking no refusals, and Ianto, now frozen in spot, traced the voice to a tall tree growing on the opposite side of a forest clearing. There was a slight movement, and with a bit of a start, Ianto realized that what he originally thought to be part of a shrub abutting the huge trunk of the tree was actually a humanoid person. The bloke stood on one knee and held a crossbow with a cocked arrow pointing directly at Ianto. He had short spiky hair of unidentifiable color topped with a parrot-like crest, and even across the few feet of the clearing, his brilliant blue, slightly slanted eyes practically shone with a challenge. He was dressed in old-fashioned clothing reminiscent of Native American garb and blending in so well with the background that had the young man not shifted, he would have remained completely hidden in plain sight. With another start, Ianto realized that the bloke was indeed very young, younger even than he himself had been when he'd first joined Torchwood 3.

The man repeated his command for the third time. He was speaking in a language Ianto had never heard before, and that was saying a lot because Ianto was confident in his ability to at least recognize most languages spoken on Earth and a few spoken in other parts of the universe. Ianto spread his arms, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and replied, "I apologize, but I do not understand what you are saying."

The young man looked confused for a second, but then said something else, his tone still hard and demanding. Ianto had the feeling that it was the same command as before, but in a different language. He spread his arms again and shook his head to show his lack of understanding. The young man frowned and somewhat haltingly tried yet another language. His command over this tongue evidently was not as good as the others, but that did not make a slightest bit of difference to Ianto, who could not understand a single word in any of the three languages.

Actually, the situation did not even require words. It was perfectly obvious what was going on without saying much of anything. Ianto had clearly stumbled into what the young man considered his own territory, and the bloke wanted him gone, but was willing to let the intruder leave peacefully instead of shooting him straight away. The problem was that he was the first person Ianto encountered so far on this planet, and Ianto's complete lack of knowledge about local flora and fauna made his chances of survival very low if he did not find more knowledgeable people fast. Had they at least one language in common, Ianto might have asked the young man to direct him to the nearest human settlement and promptly gone his own way, but as it was, he could only hope to convince this blue-eyed faux Indian that he was harmless enough to keep around.

"I do not know where I am or where to go," Ianto said, making a sweeping gesture around the clearing and then shrugging dramatically. The young man narrowed his eyes in concentration, as if trying to decipher what Ianto had just said—and failing. _By this point, it ought to be obvious even to a complete moron that we don't speak the same language, _Ianto thought wryly. _The only question is what he will do with me know._

There was a pause while the young man seemed to contemplate the current situation and Ianto prayed that the final solution would not involve arrows protruding from his once again dead body. It was during this minute of indecision that a weird glint somewhere behind the young man's back caught Ianto's attention. He strained his eyes to see, and with horror realized that a long shadow slithered silently in the other bloke's direction, with every step looking more like a hideous hound-like creature covered in black reptilian scales. There was no question in Ianto's mind that it was planning to supplement its diet with a bit of human flesh.

The young man chose this moment to say something despondently and start lowering his weapon, and in the same instance, the creature hunched on its hind paws, preparing for a leap. Ianto realized with absolute certainty that this was precisely the situation in which he vowed to help someone in need and, trying not to think about the suicidal stupidity of his actions, he launched himself at the young man, yelling, "Watch out!"

The young man looked startled for one critical second, allowing Ianto to draw nearer, but then raised his weapon and fired. A moment later, Ianto crashed into the bloke's body and almost instantaneously felt a jolt to the ground when the creature landed heavily next to them, missing its prey by a mere foot. And only then did the searing pain from the arrow lounged deeply into his left shoulder penetrate Ianto's consciousness.

The young man stared at the creature with wide eyes as the monster spun around, practically knotting and unknotting its serpentine body with a preternatural agility. The monster's canine head opened its mouth, and a forked tongue quickly probed the air before once again disappearing behind a row of sharp fangs. Before, the creature was focusing only on the young man, but now the sight of blood seemed to draw its gaze towards Ianto. It leapt forward with the speed that neither human could possibly counter. The young man threw up his arms, and a split moment later, the creature seemed to hit an invisible wall. The canine head emitted a strikingly snake-like hiss, and the monster tried lunging at its prey again, but once again was deterred by the invisible barrier. It took several more attempts before the creature gave up and, with another loud hiss, began pacing across the clearing, avidly eyeing its victims.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, the young man said something, and in the next moment, lowered his arms, grabbed Ianto's good shoulder, and shoved him behind. Ianto lost his balance, the fall jolting his injury, so for a moment all he could sense was the agonizing pain. When it somewhat subsided, he found himself it a hole in the ground under the roots of the towering tree. He barely spared a second to contemplate the convenience of it being right in this spot when the young man jumped into the hole next to him and quickly threw up his arms again just in time to counter another attack. The monster apparently figured out that the barrier could not be maintained while the native human was otherwise occupied. Now, it slithered away and resumed its pacing while Ianto clutched his left shoulder in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding.

The hole was barely big enough to fit two fully grown men, and they were wedged tightly against one another, so when a tremor ran through Ianto's body, it took him only a moment to understand that the young man was the one trembling. Ianto turned to look at his companion and realized that whatever force field the bloke used to protect them against the creature relied on his own personal energy, which was getting quickly depleted. The monster seemed to know that and was simply biding its time for the opportunity to strike once the barrier inevitably goes down.

With another tremor, the young man suddenly dropped his arms, picked up the crossbow, and let loose an arrow. The arrow not only did not penetrate, but seemed to actually bounce off the scaly hide of the creature. The monster hissed and rushed towards them as the young man let out another arrow with similar success.

Ianto desperately wished for some way to stop the creature and then, in a moment of pure inspiration, reached for his gun. He honestly could not remember what happened to the weapon after the 456 representative released the virus, but he was not about to question his luck when a moment later he fired the gun at the monster.

Ianto was never particularly confident in his own shooting skills, and the double vision he was experiencing because of the injury certainly did not help the matter. The bullet missed, but the explosive sound of gunfire shocked the creature enough to stop it in its tracks a mere yard and a half away from its victims. The young man also stared at Ianto with incredulity, but recovering first, grabbed the gun from Ianto's hand and fired it at the monster. He was a much better shot, and the bullet hit the creature, knocking it back a pace. The monster emitted an ear-splitting yelp, and that was when the third bullet found its way right into the open mouth. Dark liquid gushed out, spraying the grass all around them, and the creature dropped dead in a puddle of its own blood.

A moment later, with the ebbing rush of adrenaline, Ianto found himself slipping into darkness as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Ianto opened his eyes gingerly and tried to determine where he was. Finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings was quickly becoming a bad habit. His open eyes allowed him to ascertain only that he was lying half-naked in bed covered in several layers of blankets, and above him lay the spectacularly exciting view of a wooden ceiling. His shoulder ached, but not nearly as much as he would have expected, and it seemed to be nicely wrapped in a tight bandage.

Ianto struggled to sit up, and his head swam a little, telling him that the lack of pain was not entirely natural. _Thank goodness for drugs_, he thought, suddenly remembering the week he had spent pleasantly numb and sedated after the Brecon Becons incident. There had been times when Owen broke out of the habit and did not behaved like a reasonably caring physician.

Once his vision cleared a little, Ianto looked up and immediately found his gaze locked with that of an enormous black raven sitting on a perch right between the bed and a curtained doorway. That must have been the single largest corvine Ianto had ever seen, easily twice the size of the crows and ravens one normally encountered in the British countryside. The bird clicked its beak quietly and fluttered its feathers, but otherwise did not move.

Discounting the raven, the room looked quite ordinary and rather reminded Ianto of a uni dorm both in its size and its state of upkeep. The bed took up most of the space, while a tall wooden wardrobe and a behemoth dresser huddled against one of the walls. On the opposite side of the room, there was a single window paned in some sort of barely translucent material that only let in enough light to see by, but did not allow one a view of the outside. A sturdy night table stood by the head of the bed just to the right of the window, and the little remaining space seemed dominated by a simple wooden chair. Ianto noticed that most of his things, with the sole exception of the gun, lay haphazardly on top of the dresser. They were randomly intermixed with other unidentifiable objects that presumably belonged to his host or hosts. His clothing was also there, strewn carelessly on the back of the chair.

Hating to see the suit treated in such an unbecoming manner, Ianto moved to get up and hang it properly, but the bird opened its beak and emitted a loud screech. Ianto paused and looked at the raven, which gazed back at him with seeming defiance. He shifted again experimentally, and the bird spread its wings and cawed menacingly once more. Apparently, his hosts did not trust him enough to leave him without a guard.

Ianto settled back into bed, and the raven seemed to once again relax on its perch. He took a moment to admire the shine of the smooth black feathers and the obsidian length of the threatening beak. It was really a very beautiful bird. "'Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, I said, art sure no craven, ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly Shore. Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian Shore,'" Ianto recited aloud, having nothing better to do.

Thankfully—or unfortunately—the raven did not quoth, "Nevermore". It did, however, cock its head to the side and gaze at Ianto with curiosity. He guessed that it might enjoy the cadence and the rhyming of poetry and recited the entire poem from the beginning to the end before moving on to _Annabel Lee_. This effectively exhausted Ianto's knowledge of Poe, and he was in the process of choosing something else for the bird to enjoy, when a strange sound from beyond the curtained doorway caught his attention. A minute later, the young man appeared at the threshold, carrying an improvised tray made from sticks tied together as in a raft. The raven flew up from its perch and, excitedly cawing, settled on his shoulder.

The host—or the captor, as Ianto was after all under guard—set the tray on the night table and, without a word, reached towards Ianto's shoulder. His entire demeanor screamed annoyance at having to take care of an injured stranger. This, in turn, annoyed Ianto. After all, he was injured in an attempt to save the young man's life. Granted, the bloke quickly repaid him by saving his life in return, but there was still something to be said for basic gratefulness and politeness.

The young man unwrapped Ianto's shoulder and carefully washed the wound with warm water. Ianto almost did not want to know the extent of the injury, but finally gathering enough courage to glance at it, found it to be not as bad as he had feared. For one thing, it already began to heal, and he realized with a start that he must have been unconscious for more than one day. Never meeting his patient's gaze, the young man finished cleaning the wound, soaked a bandage in some dark liquid, pressed it to the site of the injury, and adroitly rewrapped the shoulder in a series of dry bandages. Then he stood up and said a few words, which Ianto felt were not addressed to him. Sure enough, the raven leapt from the bloke's shoulder, unhappily flapping its wings back to the perch. The young man then took the tray and disappeared behind the curtain. After several minutes of pottering with something in the space beyond, he returned into the room, silently placed the tray now set with a bowl of cooked meat and vegetable bits, a teapot, and a tiny Japanese-style cup on the night table, lit a few candles, and went back out again. This time, there was only a little noise followed by the strange sound that preceded the young man's entrance, and then silence.

"Well, looks like it's you and me again," Ianto said to the raven once it became obvious that his captor would not return any time soon. After returning to the perch, the bird sat with its feathers fluttered, looking more than a bit like a pouting child, but upon hearing Ianto's words, it smoothed its feathers again and tilted its head. "Sorry that you have to guard me for your master. Let me just grab something to eat, and then I'll try to entertain you again."

Ianto was not really hungry, but he felt that he ought to eat and drink at least a little in order to keep his energy up and, hopefully, promote the recovery. He nibbled a bit on the meat and the strange vegetables—which he dubbed "potatoes" even though they were juicier than their namesakes from Earth—and fed the rest to the raven. The bird would swoop down, quickly take a proffered piece right out of Ianto's hand, and fly back to the perch. More than a few times, Ianto wondered if he could distract the raven enough to escape from under its watchful eye, but then he did not really want to get the bird in trouble with its owner, and even if he did escape, where would he go?

After supper—and it was supper, as opposed to an earlier meal, as the light from the window gradually dimmed until only the soft glow of the candles remained to illuminate the bedroom—Ianto recited a series of Shakespearian sonnets to the receptive audience of the raven, which watched him benevolently with a sated expression from behind half-closed eyelids. He stopped only when his voice grew hoarse, and the minty herbal tea in the teapot came to an end. The bird opened its eyes then and cawed in protest. "Sorry, mate," Ianto apologized, trying to clear his throat. "This is it for today. Let my voice rest a little."

The bird still looked at him expectedly for a while, but then suddenly jumped up from its perch, made a swoop over the cluttered dresser, and dropped something in Ianto's lap before innocently resuming its original place as if nothing had happened. Ianto held up the object delivered to him by the raven. It turned out to be a string of intricately carved wooden beads each decorated with a different symbol somehow infused with every color of the rainbow. It was very pretty, and Ianto wondered if the young man had a wife or a girlfriend living with him.

"What do you want me to do with this?" Ianto asked, holding up the necklace. The bird cawed and launched into another circle around the room, picking up a stray object from the dresser, dropping it on Ianto's lap, taking the string of beads from his hand, dropping it on the floor somewhere behind the chair, and returning back to the perch all in seemingly one smooth motion. Fairly soon, it evolved into a kind of game, where the raven brought him different items and he would exchange them for other objects by pointing at them. The game actually required quite a bit of concentration on Ianto's part since, being unable to move from the bed, he could not see most of the trinkets the bird dropped on the floor and had to rely heavily on pure memory. He was also very impressed with the raven's intelligence, not only for having thought of this game to begin with, but also for consistently refusing to bring over any object that could be construed as potentially dangerous, including any of Ianto's personal belongings. Most of the things they played with were various decorative items like necklaces, broaches, colorful ribbons, and hairclips.

Just as a feather adorned with a string of iridescent glass beads fell on the top blanket, a strange sound came from somewhere outside, and instead of grabbing the delicate leaf-like broach out of its playmate's hand, the raven sped towards the curtain and disappeared behind it, cawing gregariously on the way. A minute or so later, Ianto heard several voices, and when the raven reappeared, it was once again perching on its master's shoulder. The young host was accompanied by a man and a woman, both clearly nearing their sixties, but both remarkably well preserved.

The woman had long black hair with only a few silver strands here and there. She was wearing a beige garb made from soft leather and draped over with a colorful shawl. The fringed hems of the sleeves and the shirt softly swayed with her every movement, and the bright beads of a wide belt glistened in the candlelight. She seemed like the image of a Native American wise woman, and the only things setting her apart from the archetype were the slanted bright blue eyes the exact shade as both of her male companions'.

As remarkable as she looked, however, the older man she had by her side was simply astonishing. He was dressed in unimaginable clothing that seemed to somehow mimic the very movement of the oak-like branches Ianto had seen during his hike through the forest without having anything remotely resembling a leaf in the design. He had long, completely white hair with a few tresses gathered into tiny braids held together with flower-like ornaments. His brilliant eyes seemed to bore into Ianto's soul, examining him with suspicion. And upon his shoulder, perched a snow-white owl about the same size as the young man's raven.

All three of the natives shared a vague similarity of facial features, and Ianto wondered if the older couple was his captor's parents. The young man made a clumsy half-bow as he invited the visitors to enter with a welcoming gesture, but for all Ianto knew, that was the proper respect people showed for their parents in this culture. As they stopped on the threshold, the host's eyes darted anxiously around the room. Ianto had to stifle a smirk. The room had been far from tidy to begin with, and the little game he and the bird had played for the past hour or so did nothing to improve its condition. The young man blushed and kicked something under the bed hastily, muttering what Ianto assumed was an apology.

For their part, neither the older man nor the woman seemed to pay any attention to the room's complete disarray. The man continued to stare, while the woman walked to Ianto's bedside, knelt beside him and said, "_Zhai'helleva_."

This was the first time anyone talked directly to him today, and Ianto found himself warming up to the woman. She certainly had by far the best bedside manner of anyone currently present. "_Zhai'helleva_," he returned what he thought was a greeting.

The woman rewarded him with a kind smile and said something else, pointing at his injured shoulder. Ianto could not understand a word, but did not pull back when she reached out and began unwrapping the bandage with professional efficiency and admirable economy of movement. The woman examined the wound, nodding a little, which Ianto took as a good sign. She seemed to exude an air of competence, and Ianto felt that he could rely on her opinion more than on the young man's. Not that the latter was bad at treating the injury either, as was confirmed when the woman asked him a question and nodded again, looking pleased with the answer.

Finishing her examination, the woman looked Ianto in the eyes and said something else. He did not know what she wanted, but it did not matter; her professional demeanor has long since convinced him to trust her. She reached forward to touch his forehead with both hands and closed her eyes. For a minute, Ianto thought that she might be praying for him, but then he felt an odd sensation of something creeping inside him, into the very core of his consciousness, deeper than anyone has ever been. Panicking, Ianto moved to shove her away, when suddenly she paled and leapt back on her own, staring at him with wide eyes as if she had seen a ghost—and actually knew that.

"Kethra!" both men cried out to her. The woman stood a yard from the bed, which was really as far as the dearth of space allowed her to flee, her hand pressed over her heart and her chest rising and falling heavily. It was jarring to see her dignified composure so utterly broken.

"Kethra?" the older man repeated, putting a steadying hand on her shoulder and following the word with a question.

At the touch of his hand, Kethra, as the woman must have been called, finally shook herself out of her shocked state and inhaled deeply. Then, turning to face the older man and gesturing in Ianto's direction, she said, "_Leshya'e Kal'enedral_."

"_Lesha'Kaladral?_" the men again cried out in unison. And now, all three of them stared at Ianto, as he tried his best to return their gaze, hoping that whatever Kethra had identified him as was not considered bad by these people.

A moment later, a sort of resolution seemed to settle on the older man's face, and Ianto once again felt mental fingers boring into his consciousness, but this time the man was too far away to push back, no matter who much Ianto wished to. The probing only lasted a minute, and the man turned to the other two natives and nodded, confirming Kethra's diagnosis. He stated something with confidence, but Ianto picked up only the word "_Lesha'Kaladral_". Then the three natives set out to discuss something for a few minutes, during which Ianto felt progressively more relaxed. His captors seemed more perplexed than hostile. They did not expect the appearance of a "_Lesha'Kaladral_"—or a "_Leshya'e Kal'enedral_", since Kethra seemed to pronounce it slightly differently than the men—and were now at a loss as to what they should do. As for what the word actually meant, now that it did not seem to be anything threatening, Ianto did not actually care. He sincerely doubted that it translated as a "newly undead alien from a different world," while anything else would not really be accurate.

Finally, the older man turned to Ianto and, for the first time, addressed him directly. "_Zhai'helleva, Lesha'Kaladral_." He said something else, too, all in the extremely polite tone of an official greeting.

"_Zhai'helleva,_" Ianto replied, slightly bowing his head, when the old man paused for a breath. "My thanks to your people for your medicine and your hospitality." That sounded very formal, and the old man returned the bow, seeming to understand the spirit of the statement, if not the words.

At this point, Kethra cleared her throat and said something, addressing both the old man and Ianto, although only the former could possibly understand her. Then she stepped towards the bedside once again and knelt in the same spot as before, holding out her hands towards Ianto with a question. It sounded polite, but he also sensed a note of insistence in her tone. She intended to get inside his head again and asked for permission, but her voice also implied that this was for his own good and he would be an idiot not to comply. A great part of Ianto revolted at the very idea of letting her or anyone else in. His thoughts were the only thing he held entirely to himself, and more than anything, an overwhelming sense of privacy compelled him to keep them hidden from anyone's prying eyes. However, the rational part of him helpfully pointed out that Kethra seemed to be some sort of a medicine woman and would likely use her powers only for healing purposes. Besides, there was really no indication that she was capable of deciphering his actual thoughts. Kethra repeated the question a bit more firmly, and Ianto nodded.

It was over faster than he expected. After Kethra finished, he could not really feel anything different except for a withdrawal of her mental presence and the calming influence it had over him while she was doing whatever it was that she did. Kethra washed his shoulder again with warm water that the young man fetched at her request and re-bandaged it tightly. While she was working, Ianto realized that the dull ache he had felt since waking up was now gone and smiled at her gratefully, saying, "Thank you." She seemed to understand and smiled back. Afterwards, Kethra handed him a vial from a pouch at her belt. Since she did not make any gestures to indicate proper dosage, Ianto assumed that he was supposed to down the whole thing, which he did immediately. It tasted horribly bitter, but Kethra nodded encouragingly and took the vial back when he was done, gently helping him to lie back on the pillows. "_Zhai'helleva, Leshya'e Kal'enedral_," she intoned.

"_Zhai'helleva, Lesha'Kaladral_," the old man echoed with a surprisingly kind smile.

Ianto honestly could not tell if he fell asleep before they went out the door or a bare second after. Either way, it was a deep, healing sleep, so whatever infraction he might have committed against his personal code of etiquette, it would just have to be righted with an apology later on.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for disappearing there for a while. First, my boss assigned me an undergrad for the summer and gave that poor boy an impossible project that has maybe a 0.1% chance of working. Then my own project took a sudden nosedive and I had to figure out what to do about it. And then, after being perfectly fine the entire winter, I suddenly developed a rather bad case of a cold. These are obviously just excuses, but the point is that I really am sorry. In any case, here is the next chapter. All the previous disclaimers apply. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

When Ianto woke up, the sunlight was pouring into the room through the cloudy material of the window. The first thing he noticed was the lack of pain in the shoulder. He lifted his left arm and flexed the fingers experimentally. Everything seemed to be in working order. Shifting the arm to the side brought about a sharp pang of pain, but that was not too surprising. The shoulder seemed to be healing well, and he just had to avoid putting excessive strain on it for the next couple of days.

Looking up, Ianto saw that both the raven and the perch were gone. Apparently, _Lesha'Kaladral_s were trusted enough to be left without avian supervision. On the one hand, that was clearly a good sign; on the other hand, with the bird there, he did not have to feel so completely bonkers while talking essentially to himself.

Glancing at the night table next to the bed, Ianto noticed the raft-like tray with a bowl, a wooden spoon, a teapot, a cup, and the same kind of vial as the one Kethra had given him the night before. Suddenly feeling ravenous, he reached eagerly towards the food, which turned out to be a kind of porridge. The bowl was still warm, and he wondered if the sound of the young man leaving was what had originally awakened him. Years of being forced to eat disgusting half-sweet, half-salty globs of porridge as a child made Ianto more than a little antipathetic towards this dish. However, either he was extremely hungry, or the tartness of the little red berries mixed into the food ended up complementing it very nicely, because the entire bowl-full was gone in no time.

After drinking some herbal tea, Ianto contemplated the vial. He did not want to go back to sleep. On the other hand, the vial being served with breakfast might indicate that it did not contain the sedative. Then again, maybe he was only left unguarded because his captor expected him to sleep. There were other considerations as well. Although Ianto did not doubt Kethra's good intentions, she was used to treating the alien inhabitants of this world, who might have some peculiar aspects of physiology that would render some medicines harmless to them in a way they would not be to an Earthling, no matter how similar to him the natives seemed. Weighing against this notion was the fact that so far, the medicines he had taken not only did not cause any obvious side effects, but actually brought about an almost miraculously fast recovery. After mulling the pros and cons for a while, Ianto finally unscrewed the vial and downed the contents in one big gulp. It tasted slightly better now than the night before, and he was left with a hope that it was actually something different.

While waiting to feel the signs of the possible sedative, Ianto decided to take a look around. Getting out of bed, he was immediately confronted with the fact that he was wearing only his boxers. Apparently, the young man had stripped him while putting him into bed. It made sense, really, since most of his clothing was probably covered in blood, but Ianto felt highly uncomfortable with the idea of being touched by a stranger. His own apparel had disappeared, but some other garments had taken its place on the back of the chair. Those turned out to be a green-brown vest with an embroidered leaf pattern and a pair of soft leather breeches. Ianto felt weird putting on the vest without a shirt, but then he was not sure how he could have fit a shirt over the bandage even if one had been provided. The only items of his own clothing that remained were his shoes. Perhaps, the young man did not have an appropriate size that he could lend him, or maybe the shoes were the only things that survived the monster's attack.

Once fully clothed, Ianto felt ready to look around. After he fell asleep the night before, his captor apparently undertook at attempt to clean up the place, which involved picking up all the rubbish from the floor and dumping it back on top of the dresser. Ianto sighed. Clearly, neatness was not the young man's forte. Arrows, knives, strange hook-like weapons, and ropes lay intermixed with the ornaments Ianto had seen the night before and his own stuff. He had to revise his opinion about the young man living with a wife or a girlfriend. No marginally self-respecting woman would willingly dwell in this dump, and besides, judging from the older man's attire, these people had no cultural qualms with men wearing jewelry. Granted, his captor looked positively drably in comparison to yesterday's visitors, but even he might feel the need to dress up on occasion.

Since the gun was still nowhere to be found, Ianto had no use for the holster, and the wallet contained only the Earth currency mostly of the plastic variety, which doubtless, would do him little good here. Instead of wasting his time with either of those items, Ianto pocketed the lighter he had bought just in case Torchwood's temporary shelter lacked electricity and put on his watch. The latter held more of a sentimental value. Jack gave it to him for his last birthday, and after surviving an explosion, a death, a teleportation to another world, and an attack by a reptilian hound from hell, the hardy device was miraculously still ticking. Apparently, it was currently 11:27, and Ianto reckoned that he would have to adjust the time once he figures it out for himself.

Securing the watch on his wrist, Ianto noticed a spectacular object that must have been too large for the raven to carry, because it certainly did not qualify as a weapon. It was a mask made out of feathers and artistically decorated with flowing strips of satin-like material and tiny gems. Digging through the pile of stuff on the dresser, he fished out two other such masks, both decorated with intricate flowery or leafy designs, partially engraved into the wood and partially embroidered into the silk, which was stretched over the wooden base. None of these pieces would have looked out of place in an art museum, and Ianto thought that the carelessness the young man showed by dumping them in the midst of the other junk was nearly criminal. He carefully set them on the chair before turning towards the curtain.

The other room was very similar in size and décor. It housed a large table cluttered with random cutlery, caldrons, and knives, two huge cupboards with similar cookware haphazardly arranged on the shelves in no discernable order, several huge wooden trunks, three chairs, the raven's perch, and an enormous vat of water with a big earthenware jar inside. Taking the lid off the jar, Ianto saw two freshly killed creatures with long rabbit-like ears, squirrel-like bodies, and naked, rat-like tails. He had a strong suspicion that the animals were going to end up on tonight's dinner menu. In one corner of the room, he also noticed a thin sleeping pallet carelessly pushed out of the way towards a wall. _No wonder the young man seems so peeved at having me here_, Ianto thought, resolving to insist on switching places as soon as he could communicate that wish to his host.

The most astonishing part of this room's interior was the absence of any doorways other that the one that led back to the bedroom. Wrecking his brain for a little while, Ianto finally noticed a trapdoor in the floor almost completely covered with some sort of a rope. _What is it with men in my life and their passion for trapdoors?_ However, remembering the weird sounds that preceded and followed his host's appearance and disappearance, Ianto realized that their oddity lay precisely in coming from somewhere below. On the other hand, if this really was the only entrance into the young man's adobe, he found it quite difficult to evoke the bizarre image of yesterday's dignified visitors somehow climbing up into the attic through a hole in the floor.

Since no signs of a sedative manifested so far, Ianto reckoned that it would be fairly safe to climb down and see if he could find any other people. He lifted the trapdoor and was startled to see a patch of grass some four or five yards below. He had thought that the rooms were located in an attic, but apparently, the young man lived in a very large tree house. The rope that had covered the trapdoor before turned out to be a rope ladder fastened to the wall via a metal bar. Ianto threw it down, wondering how the young man managed to leave without using it and how he expected to get back into the tree house with it still coiled up on the floor.

Not being able to rely on one of his hands made climbing down more onerous than it would have been otherwise. Once his feet were once again firmly planted upon the ground, though, Ianto finally had the leisure to look around and found himself in the middle of the forest. The loud chattering of the birds, the tinkling of a stream somewhere to the right, and the buzz of a lone bee as it flew lazily by his shoulder seemed to be the only sounds for miles around. _Of course, there would be bloody no one around. What do I need other people for?_

Gazing up, Ianto saw that the tree house was well masked by the branches of the huge tree, but was still pretty visible to someone who knew about its existence. He wondered what drove the young man to live in such a secluded place. Maybe, he was naturally a hermit, in which case Ianto's presence disturbed him in more ways than one, or maybe he was an exile and would welcome some company (although yesterday's visitors made this possibility less likely). Finally, this could be a temporary seclusion, sort of like a trial period of living on one's own in order to prove one's manhood.

Since no definite answer was forthcoming without finding a way to communicate with the host himself, Ianto set aside this line of thought for later and made his way to the stream, carefully memorizing the way. The brook was tiny, but the fast-running, cold water seemed clean and clear, and Ianto took an opportunity to relieve himself behind one of the bushes and then wash up properly for the first time in goodness knows how many days. He flushed uncomfortably, thinking about what the young man must have had to do for him during the days he could not take care of his own business. Ianto felt a rush of gratefulness towards his host, ready to excuse his complete lack of manners.

Feeling much better after the wash, Ianto sat down on a stone facing the stream, and considered his current situation. He had to find a way to repay the young man for his hospitality, but most importantly, he needed to convince the host to either let him stay or to introduce him to other people, since Ianto clearly could not survive on his own. Both of these goals could potentially be accomplished at the same time if he made himself useful in some indispensable way.

Coming to a decision, Ianto got up, gathered a few fresh-fallen twigs, and holding them in his teeth, climbed back into the tree house. After sweeping the floor, he stripped the sheets from both the bed and the sleeping pallet and dumped them down the trapdoor. He washed the linen in the stream and left it to dry in the sun in the small clearing to the left of the tree. Once back in the tree house, Ianto set himself a task of putting everything in some kind of order. Cleaning was the one thing he knew better than well and could be almost obsessive-compulsive about. When he was a child, it was an actual compulsion, as a messy room had the potential of bringing about a very real punishment. Later, during his rebellious teenage years, he made it his goal to be as much of a slob as other people around him, so by the time he met Lisa, he could pass himself fairly easily as an average bloke. When he came to work for Torchwood 3, though, cleaning became a part of his daily duties, and he found himself easily slipping back into the compulsive need for neatness.

Hanging the masks on the walls with an air of a finishing touch, Ianto turned to admire his work. It was truly amazing how much more like a home the tree house felt after all the random objects strewn about every available surface found their own proper places. Ianto found a large basket, tied a rope to its handle, used it to pull up the dried linen, and remade both the bed and the sleeping pallet. With nothing else to do, he felt at loose ends for a little while before remembering the dead rodents. Maybe if he prepared dinner, the young man would be more inclined to keep him around.

Searching through the trunks for something else to cook, Ianto discovered a variety of different nuts, fruits, and vegetables as well as a few jars of dried herbs. Since most of them did not resemble anything he was familiar with, he found himself tasting pretty much everything and somewhat at random deciding what might go well with the meat. Choosing a few of the probable vegetables and spices, he put them and a jar of salt into a caldron, lowered all of it onto the ground, and was about to climb down himself when a lone earthenware container wedged between a wall and one of the trunks caught his eye. Unable to restrain his curiosity, Ianto opened the lid and felt himself swept with wild glee. For there, in the dark depth of the jar, lay a wonder he had thought lost to him forever—coffee beans. After gazing at them for a moment, he burst into a fit of uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. If a more portentous good omen existed, he honestly could not think of one.

When Ianto finally got a grip on himself, he climbed down once again. In a few steps from the tree, he had seen a shallow hole in the ground where a few green twigs were strategically placed to cover a mound of ashes. Ianto removed the twigs and set up a fire with some dry firewood he had gathered from around the area. Soon, a caldron of vegetables and cleaned rodent meat was boiling over the flame. Ianto saved the animals' entrails for the raven and dumped the skins as far away from the tree house as he dared to go, not wishing to attract the attention of any predators. Returning to the fire, he allowed himself a moment to rest and stare at the flames in a pleasant trance-like state. According to the watch, it was now well past four o'clock, and Ianto felt knackered, but content with the accomplished tasks. It was a good place for a fire, with the thick canopy dispersing most of the smoke. Ianto felt safe and at peace, closing his eyes to better savor the calming sound of the crackling branches in the flame.

He must have drifted off for an hour or two because the next thing he knew, dusk started settling over the forest as the sun approached the western horizon. Berating himself for his carelessness in falling asleep in front of an unattended fire in the midst of a dangerous wilderness, Ianto quickly got up to check on the caldron. The flames have long since died down, and only a few coals remained to keep the food from getting cold. Ianto tasted the stew and found the meat and the vegetables well-cooked and the spices pleasantly strong and aromatic. Altogether, the dish reminded him quite a bit of a curry, and he lamented the absence of rice to go along with it.

Managing to pull the caldron up into the tree house in the basket, Ianto lit a few candles before grinding up coffee beans with a mortar and a pestle and transporting the resulting powder back down. He used a metal kettle to brew coffee over the remaining coals and then poured some water from the stream over the fire site and covered the ashes again with the green twigs. Returning to the tree house, Ianto pulled up the rope ladder and closed the trapdoor. For one thing, it was probably safer this way, but he also wanted to see how the young man planned on getting up into his adobe. Ianto set the table and settled down to wait.

About an hour later, he heard loud cawing, and in a moment, the raven flew in through a hole right under the ceiling that Ianto had not noticed before. Pausing a moment on the perch, it screeched a greeting and gazed around with curiosity as if taking in the change in the surroundings. Then the bird jumped on the floor next to the trapdoor, took one end of the rope ladder into its beak and pushed it out through a slit opening between the door and the rest of the floor. Ianto, who had half-expected his host to use some sort of telekinesis or even teleportation, barely had time to register disappointment before the trapdoor opened, and the young man climbed in with enviable speed and agility.

Catching sight of the changes to his tree house, the native stood up slowly and silently looked around. His face was impossible to read, and Ianto found himself growing more uncertain with each passing minute, wondering if he committed a serious mistake with his impromptu cleaning project. He tried to think about how he would have reacted if a guest completely reorganized his Cardiff flat and started to get really worried. Finally, the silence became too much to endure, and Ianto jumped to his feet and said, gesturing towards the table, "_Zhai'helleva_. I'm sorry if I did anything wrong, but please, come and share some food that I have prepared for us."

Slowly, step by step, the young man traversed the three-foot distance from the trapdoor to the table and sat down. Encouraged by this, Ianto picked up a bowl, filled it with the stew from the caldron, and set it and a spoon in front of the host before preparing a similar bowl for himself. The raven flitted off the perch and onto the young man's shoulder, cawing in an insistent tone. The native looked around uncertainly, and Ianto hastened to reassure him, "I left something for your bird, too," accompanying his words with fetching a bowl of entrails out of the vat of water. The young man gazed at him silently for a moment and then turned to the bird, offering it a bit of raw meat. Only when the raven refused to take one more bite, did the host reach for his own spoon.

They ate in awkward silence, with the young man gazing up at Ianto from time to time with a nervous look on his face, but then quickly looking back down again. After he finished the first bowl, Ianto asked him if he wanted more, gesturing at the caldron. The young man looked uncertain for a moment, shifting his gaze from his guest to the food and then back again, but then nodded his assent. After the second bowl, he started to get up, but Ianto quickly waved him back to his seat and instead poured him a mug of coffee. The heavenly aroma filled the room, and the young man stared up at him with shock and something else in his eyes. For a second, Ianto was afraid that this was another faux pas, but then the host lifted the mug and gingerly took a sip of the coffee. His eyes closed, and he sighed with obvious bliss.

A moment later, the young man opened his eyes again, resolutely put the mug down on the table, and looked directly at Ianto. "_Chava_," he said, pointing at the black, aromatic liquid within, his voice loud and jarring after such a long silence. Ianto almost laughed, so similar did the word sound to the English "java." "_Chava_," he repeated instead, and apparently taking that as a sign of encouragement, the young man held up a spoon and said, "_Livan_."

"_Livan,"_ Ianto echoed, filing the new words in his memory for safekeeping.

"_Pundra," _the host said and pointed to the now empty bowl.

"_Pundra_," Ianto repeated.

The raven, bored with this new game, flapped its wings a little and flew back to the perch. The young man pointed in its direction and said, "Kreel."

The bird cawed loudly and tilted its head, so Ianto got the impression that this was its actual name rather than a generic word for a raven. "Kreel," he repeated and was immediately rewarded with Kreel jumping off the perch, making a circle around the room, and settling on the back of the unoccupied chair.

The young man smiled, and then with a startled look like he had forgotten something important, he turned back to Ianto, pointed at himself and said, "Kash'tan."

Nodding, Ianto likewise pointed at his own chest and replied, "Ianto."

For a moment, they both sat stock-still, looking at each other with a kind of newfound understanding, as if this primitive introduction had opened a Pandora's box of communication, and neither of them was certain how to proceed. Finally, the young man lowered his gaze and, looking at something in the very corner of the room, barely whispered, "_Gestenna."_

Ianto was not sure if that meant "I'm sorry" or "thank you", but for now, it did not really matter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I'm going to kill that bloody bird and then feed its fillet to its owner," Ianto muttered, pulling a little red bead out of his mouth. He suspected that something was up when Kreel decided not to keep him company during the breakfast preparation, but dismissed that thought after a cursory examination of the outer room did not reveal anything out of place. Then Stormcloud—as he had come to call Kash'tan after discovering that this was the direct translation of the young man's name—woke up, and Ianto forgot about the raven's unusual behavior for a while. "I really should have known better," Ianto sighed with dejection, peering into the caldron. Who knew how many more beads masquerading as beans now hid in its depths?

Ianto held no illusions about this being an accident. Both Stormcloud and Kreel were inordinately fond of practical jokes, as he had discovered—much to his own detriment—during the past two weeks of living with them. Just the other day, under the apparently false impression that he was alone, Ianto decided to wash up in the brook, only to find that his clothing had somehow relocated from a shrub to a high-hanging branch of a nearby tree while his back was turned on it for all of five minutes. His shoulder was nearly healed, but he still did not want to put it through the strenuous activity of climbing the tree—although, in all honesty, he probably would not have tried climbing that high up anyway. Therefore, after a few attempts to knock the clothing down by throwing a stick at it and succeeding only in scaring all the birds in the area into silence, Ianto gave up and made his way back to the _ekele_—as the tree house was called—where he found Stormcloud practically rolling on the floor with laughter. To his credit, once he saw Ianto's discomfort with nakedness, the young man hastily retrieved the clothing and returned it with an apology, but none of this meant that tomorrow he and Kreel would not come up with some other way to make their guest's life more interesting.

Ianto covered the caldron with a lid again and turned to his own bowl. Stormcloud brought him the recipe of the sweet bean soup from the Vale, mentioning that it had been one of his favorite dishes as a child, but naturally he could not be bothered to cook it for himself. The Vale was where the rest of Stormcloud's clan, k'Sheyna, lived. Ianto had not been allowed to see it yet, but he had a distinct impression that it was more akin to a village than to a town or a city. The Tayledras people, at least as exemplified by Stormcloud, seemed too tied to nature to replace it with steel and concrete.

Ianto finished his bowl of soup, encountering only one more bead in the process. That was a good sign. Considering Stormcloud's propensity to leave things lying around, Kreel potentially had access to an indefinite supply of those beads. Rinsing the bowl in a vat of water, Ianto sighed again. He had finished all of his self-assigned cleaning chores for the day early, but what at first had seemed like a great accomplishment now turned into a rather unfortunate turn of events, since it left him with no distractions. The fact was that Stormcloud and Kreel were at least an hour late. Their shift officially ended at sundown. Stormcloud worked as a kind of guard of the k'Sheyna borders, protecting the Vale from the dangers both of the four-legged and human varieties. Remembering the _wyrsa_ that had attacked them on the day of their meeting, Ianto came to a conclusion that the lifespan of a Tayledras scout did not far exceed that of a Torchwood field agent, so any delays could potentially herald some very bad news. The territory that Stormcloud guarded was not so large that it would take this long to get back to the _ekele_ even from the furthest point.

Rather than worry about possible disasters that might have befallen his roommate, Ianto tried to shift his attention to other subjects. For one thing, he was quite amazed by his own ability to understand so much of what Stormcloud told him. He had always been good at learning languages, easily remembering and sorting out new words into a logical system, but the speed with which he took to the Tayledras tongue was simply phenomenal. Two short weeks into living here—the three days he had spent unconscious did not count—and Ianto already could understand almost everything Stormcloud said. His verbal skills were somewhat lagging in comparison, but for now, it was more important to learn the local way of life than to communicate his own thoughts about it anyway. He suspected that Stormcloud might have done something to telepathically enhance his assimilation of the language, but the young man did not volunteer any information on this subject, and Ianto really did not mind much, since it seemed less intrusive than Kethra's healing thing.

Finally, he heard a familiar screech, and Kreel flapped his wings through the opening in the wall. Ianto felt so relieved that he forgot his annoyance at the bird's antics and rushed to set out a bowl of vegetables for him to eat. Kreel discharged his ladder-dropping duties and smoothly sailed onto the table, not waiting for his master before starting in on the supper.

"_Zhai'helleva_," Ianto called out as Stormcloud's head appeared in the opening. The greeting meant "wind to your wings" with the kind of outdated word for "your" that probably should have been translated as "thy."

"_Zhai'helleva_," Stormcloud replied and, to Ianto's surprise, instead of closing the trapdoor after climbing through it, held it up. A moment later, the dignified older man who had visited them two weeks ago pulled himself through the opening. Ianto almost rushed to help him climb up, but stopped himself just in time, sensing that the guest would take umbrage at any implication of his ineptitude.

"_Zhai'helleva, Lasha'Kaladral_ I'anto," the older man said, righting himself and forcing the white owl on his shoulder to shift in order to keep its balance. He placed the same kind of slight pause in the middle of Ianto's name as Stormcloud did.

"_Zhai'helleva_," Ianto replied cautiously, uncertain what to make of this sudden visit.

They stared at each other for a moment before Stormcloud finally remembered his manners and gestured to the older man, "Oh, I'anto, I think that you haven't been properly introduced the last time. This is Iceshadow, one of the k'Sheyna Elders."

"Nice to meet you," Ianto addressed Iceshadow demurely, feeling awkward because at least to his knowledge, there was no equivalent of "sir" in the Tayledras language that he could add for further politeness. "Care sharing our food, Elder Iceshadow?" He hated not being able to speak in grammatically correct sentences.

Iceshadow, however, seemed very impressed. "Your grasp of our language is truly incredible," he said, gazing at Ianto with curiosity. "It is not an easy tongue to learn in such a short time."

"I assumed that _Lasha'Kaladral_ just learn things faster than regular people. Is it not the case?" Stormcloud also turned to stare at Ianto with wonder.

"That may be. I have not met enough _Lasha'Kaladral_ to know for certain," Iceshadow replied after a moment of consideration, but he did not look altogether convinced. Ianto let out a sigh of relief. "_Lasha'Kaladral_" in Tayledras meant "spirit of the Star-Eyed Goddess," and he felt quite a bit reassured with the knowledge that dead spirits walking among the living was not a commonplace occurrence in this world either. "There might be a different explanation, though," Iceshadow continued. "May I…?" he asked Ianto, gesturing with both hands towards his head.

_Well, at least this time he actually asked instead of just barging into my mind uninvited, _Ianto thought.

He had not asked Stormcloud about the abnormally fast language learning precisely because he did not really care one way or another, and submitting his mind to the intrusive probing just to satisfy someone else's curiosity was not high on his list of favorite activities. On the other hand, if he refused, it might look as if he had something to hide. In a way, that was true. Ianto really did not want to reveal his thoughts to these people, but that was not because he meant the Tayledras in general or the k'Sheyna clan in particular any harm. Rather, the very idea of opening himself up to anyone in such a manner sent him into a state of near panic.

"It will be only a simple check. I promise not to read into your thoughts, as we consider that highly unethical without a person's consent," Iceshadow reassured him, as if he had read his mind already. Ianto sighed and nodded. He really had no choice if he expected to be accepted by these people.

Once again, Ianto felt something foreign penetrating his very spirit and moving inward to some central and elemental core of his being before reaching back out to encompass his very soul. Then the presence withdrew, and he shuddered a little as if suddenly freed to express his natural reaction. Ianto found that at some point he had closed his eyes, cringing, and now carefully pealed them open, gazing at Iceshadow questioningly.

The older man nodded with a satisfied expression on his face. "Just as I thought," he said, looking happy and a little relieved with the confirmation of his original theory. "It is nothing mysterious. You simply have Mind Gifts. Mindspeech and Empathy—a rather rare combination. It's usually either one or the other. No Mage Gift, but you should not be disappointed. It's rare in Outlanders."

"What means this?" Ianto asked in confusion. He had not known quite what to expect from Iceshadow's probing, but this was certainly more bizarre than anything he could have imagined.

For a minute, both Iceshadow and Stormcloud stared at him as if he had asked if the fish could swim. The older man recovered first, "I apologize. We tend to forget that the Outlanders are not always familiar with the Mind Gifts or how they work. Mindspeech is the ability to communicate without words, and Empathy is the ability to sense the feelings of others around you. That's how you were able to understand what Stormcloud was saying and guess correctly at the meaning of the unknown words and phrases. Certain interpretations just felt right while others did not. Frankly, I'm rather surprised that you haven't been accidentally hearing his actual thoughts. I think you must naturally have very tight shields—walls—around yourself, and Stormcloud's own shields probably helped as well. It's good that you have the instinct not to pry into other people's thoughts and feelings without their invitation. However, instinct is no substitute for training. In the matter of Gifts in particular, you either learn to use the Gift or it inevitably comes to use you. This is why, if you are willing, I will gladly find someone to teach you the proper use of your Gifts."

Ianto still felt a bit dazed with this revelation. He had easily accepted the idea of the Tayledras using telepathy because they were aliens, and such abilities were not unheard of in other intelligent species. But now a part of his own self was revealed as something strange, foreign, inexplicable, and he was not sure how to react to it. Ianto felt that he was losing grasp of his own identity like the first time he and Jack… He pushed that thought to the back of his mind resolutely. Now was not the time or the place. "I had no Gifts before," he appealed to Iceshadow, silently begging the Elder to reevaluate his diagnosis. "Why this now?"

"Maybe you only gained them when you became _Lasha'Kaladral_," Stormcloud piped up. It seemed to be his answer to everything.

"Perhaps," Iceshadow replied meditatively. "Or it could be that you always had these Gifts in potential, and they were merely awakened by the shock of—well—," he let the phrase hang, seeming uncomfortable with actually saying the word "death." They were all quiet for a minute and then Iceshadow cleared his throat, "I will gladly accept your invitation of sharing your meal with you, I'anto and Stormcloud."

"Of—of course," Stormcloud replied, hastily pushing a chair towards the Elder as Ianto hurried to set out the bowls and the spoons. "Unfortunately, we don't have any meat for your bondbird, though," he nodded at the white owl, which blinked haughtily at that statement.

"It is no problem. She has gotten quite spoiled living with me in the Vale. It would do her some good to hunt for herself once in a while," Iceshadow smiled, turning to look at the owl. The bird fluttered her feathers unhappily, but then silently sailed off of the Elder's shoulder and disappeared through the hole under the ceiling. Kreel, who had been watching this scene unfold from the table, cawed victoriously, leapt up, and resumed his proper place on Stormcloud's shoulder, gazing at the humans with the air of a master of his domain. _It certainly pays to be omnivorous, _Ianto thought with a silent chuckle as Stormcloud gently ruffled the feathers of the closest wing and whispered, "Silly bird."

The other two men sat down, and Ianto filled their bowls with the soup. "If rocks in food, blame Kreel," he added dryly, nodding in the raven's direction. Kreel tilted his head to the side and gazed back at Ianto with a quizzical expression that made him look like the picture of innocence.

Both Iceshadow and Stormcloud chuckled. "Remind me one day to tell you about some mischief that these two have gotten into while Stormcloud was still a youngster. I swear no one else could rouse the entire Vale quite so," Iceshadow said in a teasing tone.

Stormcloud reddened, but managed to retort cheekily, "I seem to recall quite a few tales of your wild youth still going around the Vale, oh wise Elder."

"That is true, that is true, I'm afraid to say," Iceshadow chuckled with mirth, and at that moment, Ianto decided that he liked the old man after all. He has always envied people with the ability to laugh at themselves.

As Ianto took his seat at the table, Stormcloud gazed up at him with surprise, "You are not going to eat with us?"

"You are late. I eat early," Ianto stated simply, shrugging his shoulders with false nonchalance.

"Sorry." Stormcloud looked so genuinely contrite that Ianto immediately felt his resentment melting away. "I was summoned into the Vale a candlemark or so before sundown. Had I known that you are a Mindspeaker, I would have sent Kreel back to you with a message."

"Kreel Mindspeaks?" Ianto started. He had known that the raven was smart, but considering all the things he had told the bird over the past few days, it was certainly quite alarming to find out that Kreel might have actually understood him.

"A little," Stormcloud nodded. "His level of intelligence is only that of a very young child, but he is certainly capable of delivering a concise message and finding his way back to the _ekele_ on his own."

_That's a relief, _Ianto thought, watching as Kreel attempted to surreptitiously detach a decorative acorn-shaped button from Stormcloud's vest with his beak. _If he had been any more intelligent, there would have been no hope for the rest of us._

"Ahem," Iceshadow cleared his throat, setting aside his spoon after eating about half a bowl of the soup. "I have something to discuss with you, I'anto. This is really the reason I have asked Stormcloud to bring me here today." Ianto frowned a little. Hopefully, this did not mean that the Tayledras decided to expel him from their territory after all. "I cannot help but draw conclusions from the appearance of a _Lasha'Kaladral_ here and at such a time…," Iceshadow continued. "But I could be mistaken. So perhaps, firstly, it would make sense for me to inquire if you are planning to stay with us, or if the Goddess commands you elsewhere?"

"I nowhere to go," Ianto shook his head, wondering just what conclusions Iceshadow was referring to. He himself felt so far out of his element that any kind of deductions seemed completely impossible. As for the Tayledras Star-Eyed Goddess Kal'enel, after meeting the "angels", Ianto now held as an undeniable fact that some greater Power existed out there, and for all he knew, it might as well be Her.

"Very well," Iceshadow seemed pleased. "It is just such a possibility that we, the Elders, have been discussing. You see, the Tayledras do not allow Outlanders into the territories we hold. Such are the rules passed down to us through many generations. In a rare case when an Outlander proves him or her self to be one of us in spirit, we adopt that person into our clan as a Wingbrother or a Wingsister, and only then are they allowed to enter the Vale and partake of our knowledge. However, as a _Lasha'Kaladral_, you are a messenger from the Star-Eyed, and as such, some feel that you should be accepted among us without the Wingbrother ceremony. There are two other _Lasha'Kaladra_ we have encountered in the past several days, and we require neither of them to undergo the Wingsister ceremony—although their situation is somewhat different, as they do not resemble human beings. In your case, however, we have not been able to arrive at a solution that would please everyone, so it was decided to leave the choice to you."

Iceshadow paused and gazed at Ianto, waiting for an answer to the question he did not need to voice. Ianto understood him regardless. "If I not undergo ceremony, some people not trust me?" he asked.

"That _is_ the concern some Elders expressed, yes," Iceshadow nodded carefully.

_In other words, they are feeling a touch xenophobic and don't trust any outsiders, but they don't want to get into trouble with their Goddess either_, Ianto thought wryly. Leaving the choice to him essentially absolved them of any responsibility. That being said, Ianto really did not want to create any more trouble by fostering mistrust.

"What is Wingbrother ceremony?" he said finally. Unless it involved an orgy or some sort of ritual human or animal sacrifice, it really would make things much easier to just consent to the ceremony.

Iceshadow frowned for a second, but then his expression cleared. "Oh, you mean what does the ceremony entail? It is basically the making of oaths, none of which, I suspect, would be as binding as the oath you have already made to the Star-Eyed. There is also the passing of history, so that you may better understand your place in the world as a Wingbrother to k'Sheyna once you come to live with us in the Vale."

"I not live with Stormcloud anymore?" Ianto started. He suddenly realized that he did not want to be away from the young man. As his only company for the past couple of weeks, Stormcloud became his anchor in a sea of unfamiliarity—an unruly anchor that tended to get entangled in the thick seaweed for the sole purpose of rattling his boat, but an anchor nonetheless.

"I'm moving back to the Vale, too," Stormcloud hastened to reassure him. "I already arranged for us to have neighboring _ekele_s, unless, of course, you object to living anywhere near Kreel and me after the little pranks we pulled," he smirked.

"Neighboring _ekele_s? That's good. Thank you," Ianto said awkwardly. He was not used to these random little acts of thoughtfulness and kindness.

"It's about time for all the scouts to come back to the Vale," Iceshadow nodded with approval written plainly on his face.

"Why they not live in Vale now? Because of summer?" Ianto wondered out loud. Truly, with everything else going on, that should have been the least of his concerns.

But then both of his companions' faces grew dark. Stormcloud glanced at the floor, and Iceshadow chewed on his lower lip before finally replying, "It is a long story, but I will try to…"

"It doesn't matter!" Stormcloud spat out vehemently, clenching his spoon in his fist so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Iceshadow gazed at him with compassion and gently shook his head. "I'm afraid that it does matter, Stormcloud. Before making his decision, I'anto has to know what he is getting himself into by allying himself with us."

Stormcloud continued to stare at some spot on the floor as if he wished desperately to be anywhere other than at this table. After a minute of waiting in vain for a reply, Iceshadow gave up and turned to Ianto, "In order to understand the current situation, you must know some of our history. Normally, this is part of the knowledge shared only during the Wingbrother ceremony, but in your case, I feel justified to make an exception. Long time ago, there was a horrible war fought with magic. It left our homeland devastated and ravaged, with the nature itself perverted by magic gone out of control. Our ancestors wished to return the land to its proper order, but the prevailing chaos promised to overwhelm them, threatening to wipe out the rapidly thinning ranks of the five original clans. Our ancestors were desperate and, as a last resort, they appealed to the Star-Eyed—and She answered their prayer. She taught the Tayledras the ways of magic unknown to any other people, and She made it so that every Tayledras child is born with at least one Gift, either Mind Gift, Mage Gift, or Healing. This is unheard of among the Outlanders, where the Gifts are extremely rare and quite special. In exchange for Her help, the Star-Eyed placed a geas upon us. It is our duty to purify the land and set magic flowing through its proper channels. Once that job is done, a clan moves to a new territory and sets out to tame its wild magics again in a never-ending cycle. It has been so for over twenty seven hundred years."

Ianto raised his eyebrows slightly. Twenty seven hundred years seemed like an awfully exact figure to be completely imaginary, which meant that the Tayledras had an oral—or perhaps even a written—history that stretched at least that far back in time. Quite impressive for people whom would probably be considered barbarians by the standards of Earth's Western civilization. It was also an awfully long time to be burdened by duties accepted by someone else. Sins of the fathers visited upon the children and all that rubbish… Ianto could not help but wonder just how much of this was merely part of the great tradition. And if the geas really existed, but were magically lifted tomorrow, would the Tayledras really abandon the duties carried out for so many generations? Somehow, Ianto sincerely doubted that this would happen. Assuming that the story was true and not a fantastical attempt concocted by the descendants to explain their ancestors' actions, by now it has surely become such a deeply engrained part of the Tayledras culture that most people would not even consider of breaking the long-standing tradition.

Meanwhile, Iceshadow continued. "As you might imagine, our knowledge presents a great temptation for people who seek to augment their powers. That is the primary reason for our insular nature. The more we limit our contact with the Outlanders, the less we make ourselves into a tempting target for the unscrupulous ones among their mages." Ianto nodded, throwing a grateful gaze at the back of Stormcloud's turned head. He had a feeling that plenty of scouts, upon encountering a stranger in the middle of their territory, would have shot first and asked questions later. Overall, the function of the scouts seemed very similar to that of Torchwood, except that they protected some sort of esoteric magical secrets, as opposed to advanced alien technology, from falling into the wrong hands. "Nearly two years ago, k'Sheyna thought that we had purified this territory and began moving our Vale to a new location. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to us, a powerful mage calling himself Mornelithe Falconsbane settled just beyond our current border." Ianto winced. That name could not be construed as anything but an intentional barb towards the Tayledras, who called themselves Hawkbrothers. "Falconsbane captured one of our most powerful mages and subdued him to his own will, forcing him to be a puppet in the hands of the evil master."

"How? Mind control?" Ianto could not help but ask, wondering how the rest of the clan could have failed to notice something so major.

"It is difficult to explain," Iceshadow cringed with a look like he had just swallowed something bitter. "It was not mind control per se, although I am fairly certain that Falconsbane could have done that as well. He just thought to torture Steelblade better by allowing him to retain his actual mind while making him betray us in action. It does not matter," he sighed, shaking his head. "It took Kethra and me these past few weeks after all of this was uncovered, but I think that we have succeeded in freeing Steelblade from most of his compulsions." This did not sound particularly reassuring to Ianto, but he had no choice except to rely on the opinions of those who presumably knew better.

"Sorry, I seem to have jumped ahead quite a bit. Now to continue my tale…," Iceshadow went on. "Two years ago, we had already moved most of the people to the new site when we attempted to move the most important part of the Vale, the Heartstone. It is difficult to explain to someone who does not share the Mage Gift just what a Heartstone is, so suffice it to say that it encompasses great power that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. We could not guess that Steelblade—then under Falconsbane's control—was systematically weakening the Heartstone and creating a significant, but barely noticeable fault. When we, the mages, tried to move the Heartstone to its new location, it went unstable, and—well, those who could not extricate themselves from the spell fast enough lost their lives."

Suddenly, a wave of something intangible, but very powerful and undoubtedly real, hit Ianto with a brutal force, and he doubled over, grasping the edges of the table in a desperate attempt to keep himself grounded in place. Then Iceshadow's now-familiar mental presence somehow clamped down on the wave and made it subside before slowly and carefully withdrawing.

"Empathy," the older man explained, shooting a glare in Stormcloud's direction.

"Sorry, I'anto," the young scout whispered as Kreel emitted a sort of soft, cooing sound, now completely uninterested in the buttons that had so captivated his attention only a minute ago. Ianto slowly released his grip on the table and tried to fight down acute misery that seemed to press on him from all directions. He had not felt this desperately depressed since… Lisa. Ianto raised his gaze up to Stormcloud, realizing that the overwhelming emotion he felt was grief. "Just go on," the young man said in a pleading tone. "I'll shield better next time."

Kreel quieted down, and Iceshadow's expression softened as he looked at Stormcloud again with compassion. "Alright, though there is little further to add. A few weeks ago, Falconsbane's plot was uncovered, and the Outlanders and their _Lasha'Kaladra_ helped us and our Shin'a'in allies to defeat him. He sustained a serious wound, which will likely prove lethal." Even still somewhat unfocused after the wave of second-hand grief, Ianto shook his head silently. If the Tayledras did not find this Falconsbane's body, it meant that the wound might not have been lethal after all, and it was unwise to assume the enemy dead. "Kethra and I are working on Steelblade while the remaining mages are trying to determine a possible course of action with respect to the Heartstone. It is still very unstable, and we cannot risk doing serious magic in its vicinity, which also means that we cannot contact the k'Sheyna who are now at our new Vale site. With so many people gone or dead, we are down to about one fourth of the clan," Iceshadow sighed with resignation. "So you see, I cannot in good faith ask you to join us without letting you know the full gravity of our current predicament."

Ianto also sighed. He might have otherwise doubted if he should stay with the k'Sheyna Tayledras, but this story essentially took away his right to choose. The more desperate the clan's situation, the more he felt obligated to help under the terms of his own personal geas. "I'll go through ceremony and learn Mind Gifts," he said, and Iceshadow nodded, looking pleased with the answer.

"Thank you. I shall not ask why the Star-Eyed has sent you to us now or whether you even know the answer to such a question," he said with a sorrowful smile, "but I cannot help but view your appearance as a sign of hope."

Ianto shifted uncomfortably with such a weight placed upon his shoulders, but then who was he to extinguish the tiny light at the end of these people's tunnel?


End file.
